


Teacups

by sheswanderlust



Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, It's gonna break my heart, M/M, Madancy, but just a little bit, long fic, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5365553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheswanderlust/pseuds/sheswanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> "Is è mo laoch, mo ghile mear</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Is è mo shaesar ghile mear.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Nì fhuaras fèin aon tsuan ar seàn</i>
  <br/>
  <i>o chuaigh ì gcèin mo ghile mear"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first long fic about this pairing. The idea is to tell the beginning of their relationship during the filming of King Arthur and then to go on with the Hannibal period.  
> English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for the mistakes.  
> Also, the lyrics in the summary are the first verses of an Irish song. The translation is:  
>  _"He is my hero, he is my love,_  
>  _he is my Caesar, he is my love._  
>  _I have not found happiness or rest_  
>  _since my love left"_
> 
> I hope to read your comments, it's always beautiful to have a feedback. (: 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't know the people I write about, nothing of what I write is really happened, it is only my imagination and I don't want to insinuate anything about the people's real life and relationships.

_Western Ireland, June 30, 2003._

 

Mads shivered in his leather jacket and hurried to reach the bus that would have taken cast and crew home after the shooting day in that secluded locality. The Irish sun was setting and the breeze was cold, even if it was summer. He did not even stop outside to smoke a cigarette with some of the crew, as he would have usually done, stepped on the bus and sighed with relief when the warm temperature hit him. He walked towards the end of the bus, where he could see some of his fellow actors. He saw a mop of curly hair, smiled and hurried to reach Hugh. He dropped on the seat beside him; the English actor raised his eyes from the book he was reading and smiled quietly at him, before returning to the page. Mads inclined his head to read the title of the book: _Borstal boy_ , by Brendan Behan. 

After a rough twenty minutes, the bus departed. Around them, the dark had begun gracing with its shadow the wild Irish landscape. Green fields and white cliffs passed in front of their eyes, as beauties who did not feel the need to boast their perfection. Two months in Ireland and Mads still could not get used to that amazing landscape. Inside the bus, the chatting was quieter than usual, everyone too exhausted from the day of shooting to have a proper conversation. Here and there, he could hear Stellan and Ray speaking softly on the seats behind them. He looked at Hugh beside him. The actor had stopped reading and was now looking at the landscape outside the window. He seemed totally lost in the beauty of the now obscurely green slopes and Mads could almost see his brain absorbing the view, probably echoing words of some Irish poet.  
Hugh must had felt his gaze on him, because after some seconds he spoke. 

“It is so beautiful that it is almost sad” he murmured, hinting at the cliffs and the sea. “It looks eternal. It has seen people leaving, people staying, people passing briefly and it is always there. It is intimidating to be surrounded by such a landscape; it makes me feel so small”.

Mads nodded, even if Hugh was still looking through the window. “It feels like a privilege to be there, looking at it”.

“It is”.

“Yes, it is”.

A comfortable silence fell on them, while even the most cheery voices on the bus faded down. In half an hour, many people on the bus were sleeping. Mads smiled when he felt Hugh’s weight on his side. The younger man had fell asleep on his shoulder, his legs still bent against his chest, the book in precarious balance on his lap. Mads carefully took it, closed it without losing the bookmark and put it in the case on the back of the seats in front of them. He looked at the Brit, suddenly unaware of the view outside the window. His dark curls were disheveled from the day of shooting in the wind and his expression showed his exhaustion. Mads could not avoid smiling in noticing how even the beard he had had to grow for the role of Galahad could not hide his boyish appearance. He took a long breath when he felt the urge to take hold of the other actor’s wrists. They seemed so frail and from the first time he had seen him, he had needed to touch them and keep them in his hands, feeling the pulse under his fingers. He shifted his gaze on the seat in front of him to clear his mind. It was frustrating realizing how much the beauty of his young colleague had hit him. He had a long career in the performing arts, as a dancer and then as an actor. He was accustomed to beautiful people, he had seen many of them in his 38 years of life, but still Hugh was something entirely different. And the worst part of it was that blaming it only on his physical appearance felt like a big, shameless lie.  


Looking at the Brit, completely abandoned against his side, Mads wondered if he was conscious of their vicinity while he was falling asleep on him. Probably not. He had known him for barely two months, but he was aware of how much he was reserved. He joked and fraternized a lot, but there was always a wall of ice in his eyes. A kind of distance that he kept between him and the others. Mads supposed it was one of the typical English personality traits. Still, sometime Hugh seemed more at ease with him than with the other actors, so maybe letting himself falling asleep against his shoulder was a conscious decision.  


_My God, Mads, you’re being pathetic. Stop being a 13 years old boy._ He had to recompose himself, stopping his thoughts from becoming even more foolishly babbling. He resisted the urge of taking a cigarette from the pack on his pocked and lighting it on the bus. Antoine would probably have him thrown down from a cliff. The idea of walking to the front seats and asking for a smoke stop disturbed him. It would have meant to wake up Hugh. Somehow, Mads felt this as something deeply wrong. He looked again at the young actor and smiled, defeated. The 13 years old boy inside him had won the battle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally made it. This chapter gave me many problems and I have rewritten it again and again. I will try to update faster the next time. I thought to put here some link that could be useful to fully understand the chapter, in case you are not familiar with the English public schools system: 
> 
> _Wikipedia page about public schools_ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Public_school_%28United_Kingdom%29  
>  _Wikipedia page about Winchestser College_ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winchester_College
> 
> In the meantime, thanks to everyone who liked the first chapter, I hope you are going to like this too!

  


Mads kicked the ball straight to Stellan’s feet. The other actor bounced it a couple of times before kicking it back to the Dane. They had chosen to spend part of their lunch break playing football in the fields near the set. It was a strangely warm day and it would be a pity to spend their free time locked in a trailer. They were not the only ones to have had that idea: Hugh, Ioan and Joel were splayed on the grass at a certain distance from them, eyes closed, absorbing the sunshine. Ray was chatting with Keira, while their other Ray, affectionately renamed “Win” to avoid confusion between him and Ray Stevenson, was nowhere to be found, probably hitting on some beautiful make-up lady. Mads profited of Stellan’s showing off his football skills to observe Hugh, taking in the way his shirt had risen a little bit, revealing his thin hips. He was smiling at something Ioan had said. 

“He’s too much” 

Mads looked up to find Stellan looking at him, a knowing expression on his face, feet still juggling with the ball. 

“What do you mean? Too much for me?” he answered, without even bothering to feign confusion at his friend’s remark. He and Stellan had never talked directly about the whole Hugh question, but Mads had not deceived himself in thinking that the Swede had not noticed his feelings. 

“No, too much. He’s too beautiful, too clever, too young. It looks like everything but an easy relationship” explained Stellan, kicking the ball back to Mads. Mads stopped it, glancing again towards Hugh and then focusing on the ball, Stellan’s words echoing in his mind.

“I’m not looking for an easy relationship” he retorted then, trying to ignore the dizziness he felt at the thought of he and Hugh actually being together. He silently thanked that he and Stellan were talking in Swedish, but looked at Hugh for a moment anyway. God only knew how, after only some months of knowing him and Stellan, the kid already had a basic grasp of Danish and Swedish. Luckily, he was busy chatting with Ioan and Joel, so Mads’s confessions were safe.

“Then he’s probably everything you like in a man” concluded Stellan, controlling the ball and kicking it at him. “Except that he’s not a man yet” he added then, with a laugh. 

“Come on, he’s not so young!” protested Mads, kicking the ball with force, hitting Stellan as a punishment. 

“He is young and looks even younger”

Mads did not answer, only glanced again at Hugh and his curls spread on the green grass of the field. Months had passed since their first encounter and Mads was still stuck in awe every time he looked at the Brit. In that moment, Hugh looked at him and smiled. Mads could not help but smiling back. Stellan’s mocking comment, “you’re totally gone for him”, seemed miles away. 

 

 

“STOP. We’ve finished here, finally. Go home and rest, people. Good job” Antoine’s voice reached the actors and the extras as a breath of fresh air. A collective sigh of relief could be heard coming from them. They had been filming that battle sequence for two days and they could not stand it anymore. 

Hugh stretched his back and his shoulders, feeling the soreness creeping through him. Everything he needed was a hot shower, comfortable clothes and his bed.  
The actors exchanged a relieved look and headed together to the make-up trailer, in order to change and stop being Arthurian knights, at least until the following morning. 

“Boy, every time we shoot a sword scene I’m more angry at you” said Ray to Hugh, shaking his head. He, as everyone else, had noticed Hugh’s effortlessness when using the sword. 

“And then I manage to fall while walking, as a clumsy idiot” smirked the younger actor. 

“Seriously now, where did you learn to use a sword?” asked Joel.

“My school had a fencing class” answered the other, suddenly evasive. His face showed how the conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn for him. Somehow, almost no one noticed. 

“Really? Do you learn fencing in English schools?” the Australian was curious. 

Ray smirked at the words of Joel. “My school didn’t even have a football field, let alone a fencing course” he commented. “To which school did you go?” he then asked Hugh. 

“Winchester” 

“Oh” Ray was speechless for a moment. Beside him, Win was dumbfounded, too. “… well, that explains the fencing” he commented then with a laugh. 

Hugh smiled at him, a smile that did not reach his eyes, and then hurried to enter the make-up trailer, feeling uneasy and hoping that his friends would not continue talking about the matter. He sat in his usual make-up chair and smiled at the assistant who quickly came to take care of him. 

Hugh’s strange behavior was noticed by Mads. Honestly, he had not really understood why Hugh’s high school (that _Winsomething_ , he had not really catch the name) had been such a revelation. Ray and Win had looked very surprised, so he assumed that it was a school famous for something. Ioan had seemed not impressed, but then he had known Hugh for longer than them because they had filmed Black Hawk Down together, so whatever this _Winsomething_ was, it must not have been a news for him. From the look on his face, Joel was confused as him on the matter, so Mads supposed that it was something comprehensible only to British people. Still, Hugh was palpably nervous, fiddling with the objects on the make-up table in front of him, so he decided that it was worth talking with him. 

 

 

“Hugh, hey, wait” 

Mads took the younger actor’s arm, not letting him reach the lift of the hotel. Hugh turned and looked at him, confused. 

“Fancy a beer?” asked Mads, smiling at his own pun about the friend’s surname. 

The Brit huffed a laugh and punched him lightly, before nodding and following him. Mads gestured him to go and sit to one of the most secluded tables, while he ordered. Waiting for the barman to come with the beers, the Dane looked at his friend. In the dimmed light of the smart furnished bar, he looked like a model. No, maybe not like a model, Mads corrected himself. Sometimes models looked objectively perfect, but you could see a certain emptiness in them. You could feel that beyond the handsome shell, there was nothing so fascinating. Hugh was something entirely different. Mads observed his face, slightly buried in his big tartan scarf. Its asymmetry was hypnotic. He still had to actually understand what was “wrong” in it, but he would need the time to look at him closely, without having to hide his interest, and this simply was not possible. Hugh’s eyes were looking without much interest at a couple sitting on the other side of the room. He seemed totally at ease, as always, almost detached in his apparently absence of emotions. Still, Mads could feel his charm, his magnetism. Nothing in him seemed empty.

The barman put the two beers on the counter and the sound woke Mads. He paid, took the bottles and reached Hugh at the table. After a mumbled “cheers”, both men drank a long sip. 

“You’ve been quiet since we talked about your school” said then Mads, without a big preamble. 

Hugh let out a short laugh. “Well, that was direct” he commented, amused by the straight words of his friend. 

Mads smirked, then returned serious. “Are you ok?” he asked, looking at Hugh above his bottle of beer. 

“Yes, don’t worry” 

“I worry when you suddenly close up like that” Mads cursed at himself. That was far too direct, even for him. Hugh just looked at him and smiled. He seemed at loss of words for the first time since Mads had known him.

Mads looked while Hugh’s fingers scraped the label of his bottle. 

“Do you know Eton? The famous school where many Royals went?” the Brit asked, after a while. 

Mads nodded. 

“Well, Winchester is like that. Only less famous outside the UK now, because Henry and William did not went there” 

“Oh” Mads did not really know what to say. In his world, there had never been place for excellent schools and famous schoolmates. His mother was a nurse, his father a trade union official. His had always been an ordinary family and so had been his home and his school in Nørrebro. It was weird to realize that Hugh had had a completely different experience. He tried to picture him with a smart uniform instead of the blue pullover and dark jeans he was wearing now. It would probably suit him, as practically everything he could wear. 

On the other side of the table, Hugh felt a stab of anxiety in his heart at Mads monosyllabic answer. He immediately regretted mentioning Henry and William. He just did not need to appear even more like a spoilt brat than he already was. He already felt childish and unexperienced enough in Mads presence. 

“Yeah, and…” He trailed a hand between his curls, trying to explain his feelings. “I feel like people often assume I am a spoilt child only because of that. I mean, I know I’m privileged and rather lucky because many people could not even afford such an education, and I know that the entire public school system is dated and probably has not reason to be anymore, but…”

“Kid, calm down” Mads interrupted him and put a hand on his wrist. Hugh tried not to focus on how the endearment made him feel his cheeks going on fire. “You don’t need to justify yourself. You did nothing wrong” continued the older actor, moving his thumb on Hugh’s skin. His hands were both gentle and rough. Gentle, in their intentions. Rough, in their callousness and broadness.

“I just don’t like being judged as an idiot” mumbled Hugh. 

“I can barely keep track of your thoughts most of the time, how could I judge you as an idiot?”

“You’re not stupid” the younger man pointed out, drinking his beer. 

“Neither are you”

“I suppose I’m not” he mumbled. “It’s just hard, sometimes, when people assume that you was admitted to Oxford just because you went to a fancy public school and that you’re getting roles because you have connections and not because you’re good. I’m not saying that things like this do not happen, but it’s not nice to be judged this way after you’ve spent your life working hard to reach your goals” 

Mads nodded. He now understood why Hugh’s mood had shifted so suddenly. He was happy that the younger actor seemed at ease enough with him to vent about his frustrations and, at the same time, he was curious to know more about him. Hugh was like a weird and fascinating book that he wanted to devour word after word, in order to understand it fully, to feel it fully. 

“I’m not judging you” the Dane said, honestly. “and neither are Win, Ray and the others” 

Hugh looked at him and then smiled, and Mads could see him finally relieved. “Thanks”

“Now, what if I buy another round and you tell me something about Oxford? I can reciprocate with juicy details about my ballet school”

“It…” Hugh stopped for a moment, taken aback by the weird sense of coziness he was suddenly feeling. “It sounds great”

  



End file.
